5 times Watson said no & the one time he couldn't
by drcalvin
Summary: Watson follows Holmes, but it doesn't mean he's a pushover. A little gen-ficlet about our favorite detective and sidekick.  Gen ficlet


**Five times Watson said no & the one time he couldn't. **

**Summary:** Watson follows Holmes, but it doesn't mean he's a pushover. A little gen-ficlet about our favorite detective and sidekick.

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><p><strong>(1) <strong>

"Would you like to try some?"

The tip of the needle glistens wetly and Watson's mouth twists in disgust.

"Ah. Perhaps another time." Holmes shrugs and tightens the tourniquet around his arm.

It obviously doesn't matter much to him; nothing does, when he is in these moods.

**(2)**

"My dear Watson, your concern is appreciated, but certainly unnecessary. It is naught but a work of moments to deal with this fellow."

"Three victories are enough for one evening, Holmes. If you receive one more knock on it, even that infernally thick head of yours might crack."

"But Watson! We would have enough for rent, would we not? And if I do not recall incorrectly, you have been quite vocal in your longing for some veal at Simpson's..."

It's tempting, all the more so because Holmes eyes are dancing with the thrill of it - but his nose is already swelling badly and Watson finds it easy to deny him for his own good.

**(3)**

A grateful client is nothing unusual after a case. Not even that they are offered a reward beyond the promised fee is completely without precedence.

"Move to Oxford and lead your new research clinic?"

The form the reward takes, however, is unique. At least as far as Watson can recall.

"Why yes, is it not a splendid idea? You have already proven yourself a most able and quick-thinking man, doctor!"

The client begins to explain his plans, his dreams for a modern medical facility with the full backing of his wealthy investors now that the "trifling little matter" of the missing deeds are done with.

"No!" Holmes interjects, sharply, as the man jabbers on. "Out of the question. Absolutely, completely out of the-"

Watson merely smiles and puts a reassuring hand on the great detective's shoulder. Sometimes, he doesn't even have to say no.

**(4)**

"Can't for the life of me understand how you stand the chap without becoming utterly mad," Lestrade grumbles as they hours creep by. Yet another cold night on watch. They are waiting for a criminal only Holmes has deduced the identity of, a fact he of course can not share until the grand reveal.

"Don't you ever just feel tired of it all? His moods, his manners, his hygiene - or rather, his lack thereof!"

It was raining earlier and now the pea-soup is out, thick and heavy on the streets. Perhaps if things had happened only a heartbeat later, his reply would have been different. However, just then the police whistle sounds. When Holmes cries out Watson is already hurrying down the street as fast as his crippled leg can carry him, the thrill of the chase invigorating him like no game of cards, no bet in a boxing ring could ever do.

**(5)**

Holmes was delighted with the successful outcome. Watson was less thrilled, seeing as how they still had the dubious pleasure of entertaining Irene Adler.

Although since they were in her hotel suite, perhaps it would be more apt to say that she was entertaining them?

"You look tired, doctor," she murmured throatily and glanced at him over the rim of her wine glass. "If you wish to go home and rest your weary bones, please... We do not wish to detain you."

"What?" Holmes whirls around, waggling his finger imperiously. "My dear girl, sweet lady, you are suffering from a serious delusion if you believe that my good Watson needs rest! After a mere night of adventure and adversity, why, this is nothing to him!"

The Adler woman tried to hold onto the detective, but with the effortless smoothness that always surprised those who only saw the roughness and tension, Holmes slipped free of her.

"You don't need to rest just yet, do you Watson?"

His laughter was all the answer Holmes needed. And, if one of the parties in the room fancied that they heard more than a little scorn in it? Why, perhaps they were a tad overtired. If asked, doctor John Watson would be happy to prepare a calming tonic.

**(yes)**

The color is amazing, Watson manages to think. And the luminous light in its depths, why, he can scarce believe that a rock can seem so vibrantly alive!

"She could live quite comfortably on the funds made by selling this stone for several years," Holmes says. His voice is thinner than usual, but like old dust there still clings a strand of hope to it.

So that was his game? The disappointment is almost enough to make the luster of the jewel fade. Watson closes his eyes and pushes the jewel away, only to find Holmes hand press against his, forcing the stone against his fingers.

"If something were to happen to your crippled old self, that is."

"Holmes. I, I really can not accept this."

"Actually," Holmes says, "I do think you must." A van smile. "How else is the dear Miss Morstan ever to find it in her heart to forgive me for my rude conduct?"

He licks his lips and glances at his friend, the roof, anywhere but that precious jewel. Too expensive, too gaudy, simply too much to accept,. Even from a friend such as Holmes.

"Please? For... For everything that was."

But then, what worth is the blessings of a friend, really?

"Oh, all right then... for everything that will yet come."


End file.
